Distorted Reflections
by Manda-chan
Summary: The Knight was to be torn in two, but defied his own destiny and went against all odds to overcome the tale's binds. But when Fate is thwarted, does it really throw in the towel? Fakir finds himself no longer at war with a story, but at war with himself.
1. Two Sides of the Same Coin

This Princess Tutu series continuation plot bunny has been gnawing at my ankles for the past couple weeks. I finally decided to tend to it, though it's been difficult to develop. I hope you can bear with me.

Set a few months after the end of the series. Fakir is faithfully writing the tales for Kinkan's inhabitants, Ahiru residing with him in duck form on the lake outside his secluded cabin. Mytho and Rue's whereabouts are unknown, for the time being. Memories of what happened with Drosselmeyer's story were completely erased from the memories of the townsfolk, sparing only Aotoa of that knowledge.

Notes: This may be considered OOC for Fakir in a way, at first glance, but hopefully sufficient reasoning will be provided. Also please keep in mind that this is a developing continuation, and not yet completely mapped out.

Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy the story. Please leave a review if you can spare the time and have any feedback at all. I would really appreciate it.

Summary: The Knight was fated to be torn in two, but defied his own destiny and went against all odds to overcome the tale's binds. However, when Fate is thwarted, does it really throw in the towel? ...Fakir finds himself no longer at war with a story, but at war with himself.

Disclaimer: Princess Tutu and all of its characters are not mine.

**Distorted Reflections**

Chapter One: Two Sides of the Same Coin

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A balmy, unbearably hot, and humid summer day.

Fakir really disliked this kind of weather. Writing was difficult in the heat and required taking more breaks to cool down or fetch a refreshment to replenish lost water supply. During those interruptions, he would often lose some piece of what he was writing. And that lost part could range from the whole train of thought, to an event, and even simply the next line he'd been sure he planned beforehand. _Something_ would be missing due to that muddled moment the distraction had created. Or worse yet, his mind would work overtime and spit out the thoughts in a jumbled splash of ink and onto the paper, a completely incoherent mass of words.

But he _had_ to keep writing. Kinkan's inhabitants needed his power to keep their lives free tragic incidents, or worse, perhaps getting unknowingly sucked into another spinner's twisted story (he did not doubt there were more out there, somewhere). The ex-knight and writer did not want to leave any openings, any cracks in the doorway that unpleasant things could crawl through. He did not want things to go astray.

Most of all, Fakir did not want things to _change_.

Change brought complications. And he, Ahiru, Mytho, and Rue had dealt with _plenty_ of those already.

_'If it weren't for change, you would still be nothing more than a caretaker,' _his mind challenged him. _'Ever fearing the inevitable "tomorrow". Secluded, locked away.' _The voice in his head further scoffed, _'You're not even that much different now, are you? You're still afraid. You still can't protect. Tomorrow will always bring uncertainty.'_

The dark-haired writer abruptly stood, the chair's legs being forced back to create a rather unpleasant sound.

They were _safe_ this way, he assured himself. He could protect them with his own hand, armed not with a sword, but a quill.

Well, perhaps Mytho and Rue were not under his wing of protection, for their story had ended (and happily), but a certain white-feathered duck _was_. And he would make sure he stayed by her side, just as he promised. Nothing would interfere in her life again.

The former knight took a moment to gaze out the open window, emerald eyes focusing on the lakeside.

Unlike him, Ahiru seemed to adore this type of weather. Even now, he could see her fluttering her wings and paddling contently near the dock, basking in the rays of the evening sunlight. She looked happy.

_She _is_ happy_, he corrected himself.

This is the way things were supposed to be. Meant to be. _Had _to be.

_'Is she really happy? Are _you _happy?'_

Fakir hastily reached for his water glass and downed the last of it. His dark eyes spared a glance at parchment on the desk, blank as it had been for the entire day, thus far. The start of a story was usually the easiest, but today for some reason, he couldn't do it.

Green eyes found their way to the window again.

Perhaps he would pay her a visit. She had the uncanny ability of shaking his muse out of its stupor, even on days like this.

Resolved, he grabbed a bit of spare bread from the table, and proceeded out the door, exiting the cabin, and closing the door soundly behind him. His long strides brought him down to the crystalline lake, its surface now shining with the bright reds and oranges of the dying sun.

The duck waddled right up to the shore upon seeing him, tripping over her webbed feet and lacking grace as usual. Her feathered tail was wagging in a fashion similar to that of a dog.

"Hello, Ahiru," he greeted with a small smile, breaking the bread into smaller pieces and offering the bakery in his open hand. "Would you like some?"

She quacked in what he assumed was the affirmative response. It was difficult to understand her now, through what little communication was even possible between them. However, she came closer immediately, gingerly taking the bread from his waiting hand and munching quietly.

Fakir dropped the rest of the bread crumbs to the ground before her, and reached out with the same hand to stroke her feathered head. His brows drew together uncertainly, a frown across his lips. "You're happy, aren't you, Ahiru?"

She looked up from her pecking, gazing at him with those clear blue eyes. "Quack?"

"The way things are," he clarified, still stroking her. "You're happy this way?"

She quacked in an almost affectionate manner, rubbing her head against his fingers.

He nearly breathed a sigh of relief. Of course she was content. Life was simple now. There were no more images of Princes dancing on the lake for her to wish to make smile, no more disturbing story-spinners to drag her into tales set for tragedy, and most importantly, she was free.

This was the way it _should_ be.

He gave her head one more thorough pat and stood, brushing off the bread crumbs that clung to his pants. "Now don't go getting into any trouble, alright?"

She simply stared at him.

Fakir blinked. "What? That's all the bread I brought with me." He motioned to the many bits still laying on the ground around her. "There's still plenty there. Don't be a pig."

He turned on heel to head back up to his cabin and abandoned writing, but a soft sound halted his footsteps. That small quack had sounded less than content, almost..._melancholy_ somehow.

Whirling around again, Fakir gazed back at her. Ahiru had ignored the bread crumbs completely, passing right by them, and followed after him. Even without words, he could tell what she was feeling.

_'Does she _look _happy to you?'_

His expression showed remorse. "I'll come back again tomorrow."

She made no move, no sound. The azure eyes began to shine at the base of the large irises.

"You'd be bored stiff just sitting around in the cabin while I write," he argued, his voice pleading. Somehow he could not stand to see that look on her face and quickly shifted his emerald gaze away from her small form.

_'You know the real reason you won't bring her back with you.'_

"First thing tomorrow morning, Ahiru. I promise."

_'You know the urge becomes unbearable when she and that waiting blank paper are so near, so close...If you lose that distance, you know you'll give in. You're scared.'_

"SHUT UP!" he shouted into the twilight, hands clamping around the sides of his head.

"Quack!" came the startled noise from the bird, flaring her wings in fright of his yell.

Fakir turned and ran for the cabin without looking back. He_ couldn't _look back. He just had to get away. Away from her, away from _himself_.

The door slammed roughly behind him, his breathing pattern erratic and rough as it blew from his parted lips.

Immediately he went to his writing desk and lowered into the chair, dipping the quill into the ink and poising it above the blank page that had plagued him with its bareness all day.

If he could just start a story then he could escape, at least for a little while.

He would go and see her at dawn, just as he promised. Things would stay the same.

There would be no change. He wouldn't _let_ things change. _Never_.

The dark-haired writer took a deep breath, steadying himself, and the quilltip hit the paper, brushing in a long and shaky stroke. He relaxed, letting it flow. Already, the tension was beginning to lift from his heavy shoulders.

But the trailing of the first word stopped his hand in its tracks, invoking a sharp intake of breath. There was no mistaking what the strokes had formed in their curving black lines.

_**Ahiru.**_

"No!" he protested immediately, digging the quill harshly into the parchment and crossing the name out over and over until the paper caught upon the pen and tore.

_'How much longer can you deny it?'_

Hastily he ripped the damaged page out, clamping his hands around it and crushing it together with unnecessary force.

_'You can't deny what you're thinking. What you're feeling. You can't deny me, because I'm part of you.'_

He threw the scrunched-up page across the room.

_'She's not happy. You can see it. You won't help relieve her of that pain because you're afraid. You're weak. You fear what you can't see, what's lurking in the shadows just beyond your view.'_

He would _not_ be pushed around by his own mind. The ex-knight was certain things were better this way. How could any part of him dare to oppose that?

Dark eyebrows drew together, pen raising to the fresh page.

_'Admit that you're bitter. You carry resent for the Prince, and for the whole ending to that story. You don't believe that Ahiru deserves the ending she received, while the one she loved and put herself through hell for rode off into the sky to have his happily ever after with someone else. In the end, she was only a duck. Only used in the story, and carelessly tossed aside when it was finished.' _

"Stop it," he whispered through gritted teeth. "I don't think like this. I can't. _I won't_."

'_And in your desire to see things remain unchanged and controllable, you refuse to grant her what you truly believe she deserves. You claim it's for her safety, the way things are meant to be. Can you really accept that she was meant to be miserable this way? To carry all those memories and all of those hardships within her little duck body? Do you think she can forget? Can _you _forget?'_

"I can protect her," he argued aloud. "I can stay by her side and ensure that things will be alright."

_'Then it was your selfish desire to have something you were capable of protecting?'_

"No!" he denied vehemently.

_'She could be attacked by another animal in the middle of the night and you'd never know. You're so full of guilt and so afraid of yourself that you won't even shelter her here in your own home. You're not protecting anything, you coward.'_

His hand shot out sharply, hitting the empty glass on the side of his desk. The fragile item flew off the wood surface and down to the floor below, where it shattered into countless pieces.

_'You leave me no choice.'_

Quill to ink. Ink to paper. Fluid, quick strokes.

His wide eyes were transfixed, dancing over the words as they glided onto the clean page.

_**Once upon a time, there was a Knight. A failed knight, who found his true power in the form of writing, instead of the sword. He had the feared power that allowed story to become reality. And he brought forth the beginnings and the conclusions to many tales, making certain that each ended happily. It was his promise to a town freed from the restraints of a tragedy-obsessed spinner, the boy's very own great-grandfather, and a promise he worked very hard to keep. **_

Fakir could not stop his own hand from writing. These were _his_ words, of that much he was sure. And yet, to part of him, they seemed alien. Dangerous. _Wrong_.

_**The story-spinner had a companion. A duck, who became a girl, who became a central figure in an unfolding tragedy when she took the role of Princess Tutu. Her power of hope and the Knight's power to connect story and reality combined to bring that tragic piece of Drosselmeyer's writing to a happy ending. However, after the conclusion to "The Prince and the Raven", she had reverted to nothing more than a mere duck. The ex-Knight vowed to stay by her side and protect her. And together, they were forgotten. **_

_**Things were safe this way, or so he fooled himself into believing. It was apparent that his friend was unhappy. He stayed by her side, just as promised, but he could see that lonely look in her wide blue eyes when he turned to go home without her. He knew that his desire to see things remain unchanging would waver when she came close to the temptation of ink and paper. And thus, he pushed her away.**_

_**Part of him was furious with himself for this choice of action. Fear, doubt, and guilt were not fit to cast a never-ending shadow upon him, or the one he claimed to wish to protect. It would be simple to set her free and give her what he knew she wanted. And what he knew deep down somewhere...he had wanted as well.**_

_**That part of himself could no longer bear his weakness, his stubborn helplessness. Pen to paper, her story formed. Quick and precise. She who gave everything for another's happiness would now be granted her own, and returned to human form. Ahiru would once again be able to speak and most importantly, be able to dance as freely and openly as her heart wished.**_

"No..." he rasped. "_No_."

_**The other half of himself was overwhelmed with guilt, with fear. He could not believe he allowed himself to think that way. How could he so carelessly stand by and watch himself do what he swore he would never do? To deny all the words he had spoken to Ahiru during their bittersweet last dance in the depths of despair, to turn himself into such a bitter hypocrite...to open the doors he struggled to keep closed.  
**_

_**'Then we shall part,' his other end decided. 'Your weakness is not something I wish to carry within me any longer. Your guilt, your fear, your fake smiles, your mask...all of it. I want to be free from you. You're nothing but my miserable shadow.'**_

_**At the moment he denied himself, his Fate returned with a wicked smile, as though called right through the loophole, the new story it had been waiting for.**_

_**...And with a blood-curdling scream, Fakir was torn in two. **_

---------------------------------

Many minutes had passed.

She could only stare in disbelief at herself.

Featherless, naked, and shivering in the shallow pool of water. A long red braid trailing down her back and into the water, pale skin growing in the fresh streams of moonlight...

Ahiru was human again.

But _why_?

Had Fakir seen the tears in her eyes? Had he forced himself to write something for her because of it? She bit her lip, the urge to cry becoming overwhelming as the tears spilled silently down her cheeks. She should have pretended to be happy with what she had. At the very least, to prevent him from worrying about her or causing him suffering.

How could she be so selfish?

And she might have wallowed further in her guilt, if it weren't for horribly painful and strained scream that erupted in the near distance.

She knew the voice immediately and her blood ran cold.

"Fakir!" she cried in alarm, stumbling from the water to the shore and racing for his cabin.

What could he have possibly done to himself? Was it because of the story he'd written for her?

Fear gripped her heart tighter, squeezing painfully.

Passing by his hanging laundry, she snagged a long sheet from the line, wrapping it haphazardly around her small frame as she dashed straight for his front door.

_'Please don't be hurt,' _she pleaded inwardly.

The desperate redhead came to the waiting entrance and threw the wooden barrier open. "FAKIR! ARE YOU-"

Her words died, pupils dilating in her broad blue eyes.

Standing just beyond the doorway, in the midst of broken glass and splattered ink was not one, but _two_ identical versions of Fakir.

Her mouth worked soundlessly, opening and closing. No words would come out.

This wasn't possible. She was seeing things.

Blue eyes blinked.

Twin Fakirs remained.

A sudden wave of dizziness struck her, and Ahiru's vision faded to black as she fell to the floor.

-------------------------------------

That concludes the first chapter of this bizarre beginning. And if this particular spin has been done already, please enlighten me. The plot bunny came and I just _had_ to try it. It's complicated and messy, but I think I'm going to have fun with it.

And I apologize again for any OOC-ness. The Fakirs will definitely be quite different, which I'm sure you can get any idea of from this chapter alone.

As to how this story progresses...you'll just have to wait and see.

If you can spare the time to review, I would be immensely grateful. Even if you completely abhor and wish to flame this idea into oblivion. Any feedback is loved.

And thank you for taking the time to read this.


	2. Complications and Old Faces

Author's Notes: I actually had the outline for this chapter done a little over a week ago, but for some reason I just couldn't get it to come out into story form or flow at all. I suppose it was a writer's block of sorts (those always come at the most inopportune times). Then I got into drawing loads of Princess Tutu fanart... Anyway, not sure about the quality of the writing this time, but I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 2 Special Notes: To avoid confusion, Ahiru is going to give names to both Fakirs. Since the original Japanese version called him "Fakia", I figured I would borrow that. So they will be Fakir and Fakia. XD

**_Reviewer Responses _**(since the reviewer reply feature doesn't seem to be working for me):

**Princess-tutu-007 **- Thank you for the compliment. :D

**Ele Goddess of Elements **- Thanks a bunch for your support on _all_ of my Princess Tutu fanfiction. I'm sure I don't deserve it, but I'm grateful just the same. I'm sorry the update took awhile. I hope you find it to your liking. :3

**Madelyn xD **- Thank you!

**ColeyCarissa **- -brief sigh of relief- I'm glad the idea wasn't already done. I'd feel horrible if it had been (and discouraged, since it really sounded like fun). Glad you liked the idea, though. Thanks for reviewing!

**ChibiBotan88** - Thank you. :D Hope this continuation doesn't disappoint.

**Itsy-Evil-Spiders **- Thank you for the vote of confidence and the review! As for the twins themselves, you'll have to wait and see what I have planned for them. I'm sure it's apparent they're not likely to get along very well, though. XD

**Cherry Emi **- I'm glad you found it to your liking. :D Fakir angst is honestly something I like to play around with, but I'm not sure I've really got it down to the point I want yet. I'm working on it. XD LOL Taking one home would be quite a handful. How do you explain to your mother about the scowling dark-haired shadow in the corner? XD Thank you for the review!

**Akaina** - Thank you. My writing style is kind of weird, but I'm glad you find it to your liking. As for where it goes, even _I'm_ not entirely sure of that yet, but here's the next part, anyway. Thanks again for the review!

And now, on to the story's continuation.

Disclaimer: I do not own Princess Tutu or any of its characters.

**Distorted Reflections**

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Chapter Two: Complications and Old Faces

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Azure eyes slowly opened into the beckoning light, and Ahiru vaguely wondered where she was and what had happened. Everything was blurry in both her muddled mind and the vision that greeted her sleepy eyes.

She was still a duck, right? All of that other nonsense must have been an illusion her mind created in its dormant state. She missed being human, that much was undeniably true, but she knew this was the way things were supposed to be. Ahiru was a duck and Fakir was a boy. They were definitely not a human girl and..._two_ boys.

Ahiru raised a languid hand up to rest on her forehead and sighed, the other pushing back the warm blanket lying over her shoulders.

_'Wait, **what**?' _Distress broke through her thoughts as reality came through and she sat bolt upright. _'Hands? Forehead?'_

The redhead squeaked in surprise, suddenly _very_ aware that her body was indeed, fully human.

Panic then overtook her senses. If it hadn't been a dream, then that meant Fakir was...?

There was a small clearing of a throat from just beyond her and Ahiru jumped in surprise, startled. Fakir sat on the very far end of the bed, facing away from her and fists clenched tightly over the bedsheets.

Ahiru nearly breathed a sigh of relief. At least _that_ part of it had been nothing more than a sleep-induced mirage. Fakir was very much just _one_ person, sitting there clear as day.

However, if she were in human form again, that must have meant that he...

"...Fakir?" she questioned hesitantly.

The dark-haired young man didn't even spare her a glance, his attention fixated instead on the floor, hands clenching and unclenching the white fabric. Ahiru thought he appeared incredibly troubled about something.

She swallowed, feeling more anxious from his lack of response as the seconds passed. "Um, did you write a story for me?"

"No," he replied simply, softly.

Blue eyes blinked in utter bewilderment, then widened in horror. "Y-You _didn't_? Then who did?" She kicked the outer covers off of her, keeping the same piece of laundry she'd grabbed from outside wrapped securely to keep her decency. "Fakir, did we get sucked into another story? We have to do some-"

For the second time that day, Ahiru's words completely faded into nothing, all color receding from her face.

While Fakir was still sitting on her bed, unmoving aside from his strange hand contractions, another Fakir had also just entered the room, arms crossed. His gaze rooted her to where she sat, eyes a darker green than she remembered his the color having been before.

"I wrote it," the doppelganger supplied, glowering as if daring her to make a comment.

Ahiru backed up to the headboard, eyes darting rapidly between the two identically-dressed versions of the ex-knight.

"What's going on here?" she choked out, fingers curling around the blanket's edge as if begging the cloth for support.

As abruptly as he came, the second Fakir swiftly left the room once more, leaving Ahiru alone with the other, who was still refusing to even face her.

For some reason, his lack of words and reactions really bothered the redhead. "W-Well?" she pressed. "Do you know? Will you tell me something? I'm so confused!"

His hand had ceased its rythymic gripping pattern upon the sheets, but he still failed to offer any explanation, or even a sound to assure her he'd at least heard her.

She felt tears begin to well in her blue eyes. Everything had changed so drastically within the span of a few hours. Ahiru felt like she was around two very different people now, instead of the Fakir she had grown to know and befriend.

Was this her fault for that secret wish she held in her heart? That selfish desire to be human again?

Her blood ran cold at the thought.

However, before she could dwell any further upon the possibility, Fakir Number Two re-entered the bedroom, parchment sheets held in his hands. He wordlessly approached her and offered the papers, expression still as unpleasant as it had been before.

Ahiru gave him a questioning glance before gingerly taking the inked papers into her hands, which had begun to shake upon the realization that the writing upon the parchment must be the story that would explain how this had happened.

The duck-girl hesitated, eyes avoiding the curving black lines. She had a feeling something in this story was going to reveal more than she really wanted to know.

...But hadn't she just been upset over the confusion of not knowing how or why? It would answer that, at least. If she wanted to know, she _had_ to read it.

Blue orbs rose to the top of the page, eyes dancing across the page and drinking in the story from the ink one line at a time.

Her small hands began to shake more vibrantly as she read onward.

Fakir had been suffering like this all _alone_?

He'd seemed fine whenever he came to visit her by the lake. Even _smiled _from time to time, which was a rarity for him. Why hadn't he said anything or expressed how he was really feeling?

Ahiru bit her lip, realizing the answer to that almost immediately: She was merely a duck. Why would he confide in a creature of nature who couldn't even _speak_ to him?

In truth, Fakir really didn't confide in anyone. Not verbally, anyway. He always kept his feelings locked so deeply inside himself and hidden from the view of even his closest friends and adoptive family.

And what pained her the most was that he'd been enduring this inner battle because of _her_.

Once she finished reading the end, where ink had been spilled over the remaining blank parchment following, Ahiru carefully placed the sheets beside her and glanced up to the identical twins of her treasured companion.

Her cerulean eyes took on a serious luster, reflecting the depth of her determination. If this was her fault, then she would be the one to find out a way to fix it and to return Fakir back to his full self. No matter how long it took, she owed him that for causing this mess.

"I assume you understand the situation now."

She nodded, her eyes somehow drawn back to the motionless Fakir instead of the speaker, the former of whom was still sitting immobile on the bed's edge. The azure orbs softened. This version of him reminded her greatly of the few glimpses she'd witnesses of his weaker and un-safe-guarded moments, the parts of himself he was always afraid to bare openly. Her gaze then trailed to the other, still standing tall with his arms crossed, face like chiseled stone. His confidence was definitely there, along with perhaps his surly and cold nature, among other things she couldn't name for the time being.

She smiled at the both of them, one of which took no heed of her gentle gesture, the other of which merely raised an eyebrow ever-so-slightly.

"I'll make sure you get back to normal," Ahiru resolved, standing up and gathering the papers from the bedside into her hands.

The darker green eyes met her clear blue. "And what makes you think that's what I want? Are you stupid?" Ahiru mentally noted this was the side that most likely carried his condescending and rude nature as well, offering a glare in return to his comment. He glowered right back at her, continuing. "I asked if you read the story, but perhaps you should read it again if nothing sunk in." He turned from her and sneered as his counterpart, who lifted his head long enough to supply a weak and blank stare. "_That_ can stay here and wallow in his self-pity and guilt for all I care."

"Well...Well what about what _he_ wants?" Ahiru protested, feeling a need to stand up for the wordless twin that made no move to defend himself. The redhead moved to lay a hand on his shoulder, but retracted immediately when he pulled away from her approaching touch.

"It's fine this way," he spoke in an almost monotone voice, though underlined with a tinge of bitterness. "I don't have to put up with his selfishness anymore."

Ahiru felt her toes curl and her fingers clasp inward to fists at both sides, irritation crawling up her spine at an alarming rate. "Well what do you two plan to do like_ this_?" she bit out in frustration, desperately quelling the urge to shake them both out of their funk. "What good is going to come of-"

"You want to go back to the Academy, right?" the more assertive of the two interrupted.

She blinked. "Well, I guess I could, but-"

"Then I'll write a story so you can return," he cut her off again.

The statement and its implications, however, caused his twin to raise his head, facial expression perturbed. He rose to his feet. "And what makes you think you can just _abuse_ that power and write stories to solve everything?"

The darker-eyed Fakir completely ignored him, his attention on Ahiru. "I'll accompany you, since a Knight lives by his word."

"I'm going as well," the other challenged. "I hold to the same promise. And I'll honor it."

His counterpart sneered back at him, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. "_Honor_? How can you talk about honor? You're nothing but a coward that hides behind his shield."

"At least I think about the _consequences_ before I act, unlike an idiot who swings his blade blindly."

The more aggressive twin snatched the collar of his other's shirt. "Do you want to start something?"

"**_Enough_**," Ahiru interjected, pulling one off the other. "If we're going back to the Academy, then we'll go together, Fakir. Er, Fakirs." The duck-girl looked back and forth between them. "I guess I can't call you both Fakir," she mused with a chuckle, despite the situation. Ahiru set her gaze on darker-eyed version. "So, you can be Fakir," she decided, then turned toward the other. "And I'll call you... Faki...ah...Yeah! Fakia!"

She smiled at them, both of whom offered rather identical blank expressions in return.

Even if neither wanted to be a part of the other anymore, they were still connected. Ahiru could tell. And she would just have to do her best to help them accept one another and return to the proper single version of her dark-haired friend.

Fakir turned on heel and started toward the doorway. "I'll inform you when the story is finished," he supplied lightly, turning around long enough to glare at his solemn counterpart. "In the mean time, why don't _you_ make yourself useful and find her something to wear?"

Fakia offered a visibly weaker glower in return. "I don't need you to tell me what to do," he grit out bitterly. "And you'd better be damn careful with whatever you propose to write."

His twin paid the comment no heed, calmly striding out of the room as though nothing had been said to him at all.

Once the surly side was out of sight and earshot, Fakia lifted his gaze to Ahiru. "I suppose you _do_ need something to wear," he begrudgingly agreed, moving to leave the room in search of temporarily-suitable garments.

The redhead stood still for a moment, eyes slightly widened in surprise from finally having been spoken to by the silent side. "Wait," she beckoned lightly, one arm suddenly pitching forward to grab the hand of the retreating figure as the other kept the sheet about her form.

He froze, face once again barred from her view, but did not retract from the touch. Slowly, he turned around and lifted light green eyes to her bright blue. "Ahiru?"

She flushed, immediately releasing his hand as if the skin contact had burned her. "S-Sorry," she stammered. "I don't know what came over me."

Fakia gave her the silent treatment again, though his eyes were still fixed upon her in something she almost thought resembled..._worry_. She bit her lip and averted her gaze. "I'm glad you're not ignoring me anymore," she near-whispered. "I thought I did something to upset you so you wouldn't even look at, much less speak to me."

A small gasp fell from the duck-girl's parted lips when she felt his hand close around her own, azure eyes lifting back to his figure in bewilderment and curiosity. If anything, the luster in his eyes had become even softer, swirling with worry, shame, and a note of tenderness she wasn't familiar with seeing.

The hand upon her own remained, and tightened slightly as he spoke, "I know what happened has upset you, confused you, and probably angered you. And you have every right to feel that way." He squeezed the girl's fingers once. "You're not at fault for anything. I'm not angry with you, Ahiru. I'm disgusted with myself," he clarified in a bitter mutter. "_All_ of me. I didn't mean to let you get carelessly dragged into another spinning story or possibly place you in danger again. I hope you can forgive me, even if I'm not worthy of it." He ended the last on something akin to a strangled whisper, and gently released his fingers from around hers.

"I don't blame you!" she blurted immediately, just as he had begun to make his way toward the doorway again. _'It's **my** fault!'_ she wanted to scream. But the words died before they could pass her lips.

Fakia paused in mid-step upon hearing her outburst. "Well you should," he said simply.

Wordlessly, Ahiru watched him exit, sheets pooling around her as she sank to the floor in his absence.

She knew Fakir always blamed himself for things that weren't his fault: His parents' death, being unable to protect Mytho to the fullest, unable to help and shield all those he cared for. He could not forgive himself, even when she was certain no one else blamed him for anything that had taken place.

What could she do for him now?

This mess was _her_ fault, not his. She should have said that, just like she had planned to. Even if he wouldn't accept it, she needed to tell him it really wasn't his problem to drastically worry about and blame himself for. He was only caught up in the crossfire of her own selfish desires, having struggled with his own fears to make her happy.

Fakir cared _that_ much for her.

And she didn't deserve it.

Ahiru cared for her friend too, of course. They'd become close over time. (Well, as close as anyone could expect to get to someone as closed-off as Fakir, anyway.) However, when she was helpless to aid him like this, and forced onto the sidelines to watch, it was almost unbearable.

Stranded without knowing what to do, or how to go about doing it.

Watching. Waiting. Hoping.

The freckled redhead decided she was going to need some outside opinions and others' supposed solutions on this dilemma. Alone, she didn't have the power - or the knowledge - to do more than trip over her own feet frantically and quack her concerns and worries.

And going back to Kinkan would help with that. Aotoa, as weird as she considered him to be, did seem to know quite a bit about Fakir. Maybe not in a _personal_ sense, but his input on the matter might be of some help. That was, however, on the assumption that his memories of "_The Prince and the Raven_" had not been banished along with everyone else's. She frowned at the thought. It was still the only plan she had for now.

_'If only Mytho and Rue-chan were still around,' _she thought dismally. As much as it would pain her to see Mytho and to possibly reawaken the strength in those feelings for him again, he'd also spent a great deal of time with Fakir. Granted, he'd been heartless at the time, but more than likely, that wouldn't have affected his memory.

Rue probably knew even less than she did about Fakir, but despite the graveness of the situation at hand, she still wanted to see her again. Maybe even become better friends, if given the opportunity.

Fakia chose that moment to re-enter, pulling her from her thoughts. He approached her bent down before her small form, depositing a small heap of clothing onto her blanket-coated lap. "These should be able to keep you covered for now, at least," he supplied, rising back to his feet. "They're mine, and they might be a bit loose, but they should keep you clothed better than a mere blanket would."

She blinked at the pile of clothing over her lap, an amused smile working onto her features. She raised a pitch black shirt from the garment lump. "You really like dark colors, don't you?" The duck-girl chuckled, lifting her gaze to find his expression perplexed. "I don't mean it in a strange way," she amended. "Thanks for letting me borrow them."

He nodded once. "Bright colors do suit you better, though."

Clear sapphire eyes blinked. "You think so?"

Another almost imperceptible nod was given in reply and she beamed. "Well dark colors certainly suit you," she mused. "I don't think I could even imagine you wearing bright reds or yellows! Black, blue, and green in dark and earthy tones look especially good on you." He flushed slightly, but she took no notice of the color in his cheeks as she continued, "But red certainly suits Rue-chan, don't you think? Though I think violets and white also look really nice on her, too. Oh! And black. Definitely black and...maybe even a darker green shade? Rue-chan should try wearing green, I think." A bemused smile slowly worked onto Fakia's lips as he beheld her almost literally lighting up with all of her energetic musings. "And Mytho's eyes really stand out when he wears dark colors, but I think he also looks great in plain white and light pastels of blues. I bet he and Rue-chan would look so wonderful contrasting their colors and dancing-"

"Ahiru," he broke in gently. "You're rambling."

A hand rose to cover the red rapidly staining across her cheeks and freckled nose, a timid quack squeaking through the gap of her fingers.

It took her a moment to pass the embarrassment and realize she hadn't reverted back into duck form, due to the slip-up. "Eh?" She looked up from her hands, puzzled. "Why didn't I turn back into a duck?"

Fakia shrugged. "I guess that's due to that fool's-"

"The story has been completed," came an irritated tone from behind them, a piercing green glare narrowed on his twin. "Get a good rest because we'll be expected in class tomorrow morning."

Ahiru fidgeted with Fakir's clothing. "That _soon_?" she gaped openly. "B-But we don't even have our uniforms anymore! And we're not registered in the dorms or anything! And my ballet shoes are gone!"

Fakir shifted his gaze to her. "It's _taken care of_," he assured. "Until we get there, just wear whatever that moper supplied you with."

"That moper" scowled, briskly turning on heel. "I'm going to take a look at this stupid story you wrote before we do _anything_."

His twin shrugged. "It's not like you have the _power_ to change anything, even if you wanted to. That responsibility fell to me, and me alone. Deal with it."

Ahiru sighed, meeting Fakir's darker gaze for a second before he too, parted from the room.

Those two were definitely more alike than they seemed to notice.

Picking herself up from the floor and taking the bundle in her arms, she decided it was time to change out of her poor form of sheeted-cover and into something more efficient.

Into...Fakir's clothes.

For some odd reason, the thought made a rosy blush rise from her neck upward. She'd never worn male clothing before, much less some that belonged to a person she knew or considered close.

Somehow, that made it seem like _more_ than just wearing someone else's borrowed clothes.

The redhead shook her head frantically. It was just _clothes_, for crying out loud. Covering that humans had to keep modesty in check. Nothing more, nothing less. She was being stupid by dwelling on it, as Fakir or Fakia would have tactfully supplied themselves if they were present.

Ahiru let the sheet fall slowly from her shoulders and slip to the floor, bunching around her in creased white folds, and proceeded to pull the dark blue ink-colored cloth over her head, followed by stepping into a rather baggy pair of black shorts.

_'There,' _she dusted her hands together, as though having successfully completed a difficult task. _'That wasn't so bad.'_

She blinked suddenly, her sensitive nose picking up an interesting aroma: Dew-spotted maple, a touch of fresh green grass, and a darker, musty and masculine smell that she wasn't familiar with, but found inexplicably pleasing.

Ahiru was undoubtably surrounded by _Fakir's_ unique scent.

She'd sensed it only a few times before, the short moments when he was close enough to her. Though recently he also had the faint remnants of ink spills that added their own splash to the aroma, she noted.

However, being trapped by the smell felt different than just catching a whiff. It had a feeling to it that was sort of reminiscent of being hugged or held by him. A calm and safe, yet firm atmosphere.

She felt the blush return to her face and hurriedly darted out of the room before she could focus on it any further.

Ironically enough, though she'd sworn she could never forget it, she currently couldn't recall what Mytho's distinct fragrance had been.

_'That's just because I haven't seen or been near him in a long time,' _she assured herself quickly.

It had nothing to do with Fakir. Absolutely nothing.

----------------------------------------

Ahiru walked in an unusually silent manner, the presence of two shadows on either side of her forming a bit of an uncomfortable air. Even though both Fakir and Fakia were striding a fair distance apart from her left and right sides respectively, the duck-girl somehow felt like she was being _sandwiched_ between them.

He always _had_ managed a sort of over-bearing presence, even as just one person. And now that he was a set of twins, it was like that element doubled and spread like a dark cloud hanging over the three of them.

Could they - either of them, even - cheer up, _just a little_?

The redhead found herself suddenly wishing the Ballet Academy building wasn't all the way across the courtyard.

Already, they'd attracted the stares of nearly anyone who passed them, or vice versa. And Ahiru mused that it probably _was_ an odd sight: One small redheaded girl walking between two identical dark-haired twins that towered over her. She also noted that the majority of the female glances in her direction were that of either envy or disapproval.

The blue-eyed girl swallowed, averting and shifting her gaze constantly as the promenade continued. She never actually had the opportunity to read the story Fakir had written the night before, or had it been passed to her to view by either one of them. The duck-girl vaguely wondered just what the people around had been forced to believe had "always been this way", if anything.

After what seemed like an eternity, the trio finally reached Academy's front doors and made their way inside. Ahiru felt her shoulders slump in relief as they momentarily parted ways to the girl's and boy's respective changing and locker rooms. It felt like someone had just removed a heavy weight from the back of her neck.

However, the relief was incredibly short-lived.

Upon opening the locker room to the girl's section, Ahiru was nearly overblown and pummeled by a mob of students that circled her immediately. Some were squealing, some were shouting, one was tugging her arm back and forth, and every single one of them was making a lot of noise. Already her head was spinning, unable to concentrate on any of the voices among the throng of excitement.

The redheaded duck-girl weakly pulled herself away from the group, backing up against the west-side lockers. "W-What's the problem?" she sputtered nervously.

Lilie's familiar blonde head poked out from the crowd. Her emerald-colored eyes were sparkling. And that was always a bad sign.

"Oh, Ahiru! To believe the rumors were _true_!"

"Rumors?" Ahiru managed in an inquisitive squeak, being closed in on all sides by her peers.

"The twins," an unfamiliar voice provided, "who never take interest in _anyone_, stepping in as your personal guardians! It's like a fairytale!"

Ahiru blinked with wide blue-eyes as the girls chorused in excited squeals. **_'What?' _**her mind nearly screamed in confusion. _'Personal guardians! What on earth did Fakir write?'_

"So what's the story?" came Pique's tone from somewhere in the crowd. "You don't just disappear suddenly from school at the same time as the best male dancing duo, and reappear together just as mysteriously." Her amythyst eyes were gazing curiously through a gap between two larger girls. "What happened?"

Ahiru opened her mouth, then closed it. And repeated the gesture several times.

Just what was she supposed to say? Neither Fakir nor Fakia had warned or told her about any of this!

Lilie raised a petite hand to her mouth to hide a giggle. "Look how nervous she is! I bet they must have done something extreme, like _elope_!"

Ahiru felt her cheeks flush. She didn't know what to say and she didn't have anywhere to go or hide. This was like a nightmare!

"Oh, so you _bonded_?" came another girl's voice.

"Or maybe more!" giggled another.

"With twins, no less! That's so daring, Ahiru!"

"Just how far did you _go_?"

"Who's the better kisser?"

The redhead's back slid down the smooth locker surface, until she was sitting on the floor, face flaming. Each question was more bold, with more embarrassing implications than she could even register presently. "N-Nothing!" she stammered out of her trembling lips. "There is absolutely nothing like that going on!"

For a moment, the room went silent, a dozen different pairs of eyes staring at her.

And as quickly as they'd gone quiet, the squeals erupted again, flooding the room with over-excited chatter.

"Nonsense, Ahiru!"

"You can trust us! We won't tell anyone!"

"Oh, but what I wouldn't give to be in your place!"

"Yeah, she's right! You're so lucky!"

"I always admired those two, but they were kind of the _untouchables_, you know? Wouldn't open up to anyone!"

"So _spill_ already, Ahiru!"

"N-Not now," Ahiru managed in a quick and quackless sputter, pulling herself back to her feet. She grinned nervously. "We're going to be late for class if we don't hurry."

Lilie popped out of the female mass and glomped her in a death grip, rubbing the top of her head roughly. "Silly, silly Ahiru! You'll always be late no matter _what_ you do!"

Pique came forward to pry the blonde girl's vice lock off of the redhead, whose face was rapidly turning blue from lack of oxygen. "She won't have to worry about being late at this rate! You're suffocating her!"

Lilie's hands rose to her face in mock-disbelief, releasing Ahiru - who was visibly gasping for breath - from the infamous tight grip. "Of course I'm not!" she denied immediately, grinning innocently from between her palms.

The redhead braced herself against the lockers, catching her breath and quickly proceeding to change for class. Thankfully her female classmates were preoccupied for the time being, which finally granted a brief span of time she could have strictly to herself.

Fakir apparently hadn't spared any decent amount of thought to how his story was affecting her in the process. The duck-girl scowled, pulling her hair up into a binding twist behind her head. She'd have to have a little chat with him about that later, for certain. If the current situation continued as it was, she wasn't sure she'd even survive another _day_.

Maybe the twins would not be averse to a little editing of the story, for her sake.

Ahiru sighed, smoothing her leotard and heading for class. _'Fat chance that is,' _she thought, spirits already having fallen to low to be especially hopeful about anything.

As soon as she opened the tall oak doors that separated her from the practice room, the redhead found the two shadows hanging just off to the right side, as though they'd been waiting.

"Not late?" Fakir questioned, pulling from his slouch against the wall. "Small miracles can happen, I suppose."

She offered a suffering glower to the one responsible for her being overwhelmed by her female classmates. "Oh, shut up," she retorted. "But before that, tell me what the heck this "guardian" thing is all about!"

The surly twin's arms crossed, and Fakia shifted uneasily a foot or two off to the side of him. "I would think that'd be _obvious_," he stated, then smirked in a most self-satisifed way. "Then again, this is _you_ we're talking about."

The blue-eyed redhead really wasn't in the mood for Fakir's snide comments. Most especially not since this particular half seemed to be chock full of them. "Well, _what's the big idea_?" she pressed impatiently.

He shrugged, glancing once toward his counterpart in dim recognition. "We made a promise and therefore have an obligation," he clarified. "As guardians, we have perfect reason and excuse, if necessary, to stay by your side."

"Just look what you did!" she bit out, pointing across the room to where the female populous of the class had clumped together, pointing and giggling at the trio. "Any time I go near them, I get bowled over by questions and suffocated by crazy classmates!"

"Ignore them," Fakia offered neutrally.

Ahiru raised her blue eyes to blink in his direction, stunned. "_You_ agree to this, too?"

"He made a point."

She could hardly believe her ears. Being flanked by these two constantly was going to cause a _world_ of problems. "I'm not going to hold you to some promise like it's set in stone!" she argued. "And I can take care of myself!"

Fakir offered a dark-green stare of disbelief. "You can't walk across a room without falling on your face, much less be prepared if anything remotely dangerous were to happen."

"I did fine without that kind of protection before!" she defended heatedly. "And 'stay by your side' does not translate to 'glue to your hips'!"

"That's not for you to decide. Discussion closed." Fakir stated with finality, turning away from her and heading for the barre to begin his pre-class warm-ups.

Ahiru abruptly realized the full extent of what Mytho must have gone through during his time under Fakir's "supervision", even if maybe the silver-haired boy had actually_ needed _the guidance due to his silent death wish whenever something "helpless" crossed his vision.

Then again, at least Mytho had been spared the ability to feel, during most of that time. She, on the other hand, could feel quite a bit right now; mostly anger toward Fakir's arrogance.

Maybe she'd feel at least _slightly_ better after getting one little urge out of her system.

Approaching the barre where Fakir was currently stretching his legs (Fakia mimicking his procedure from nearby), she walked right up behind the unsuspecting black-clad twin and kicked him directly in the shin that was bared within perfect range of her small foot. Her reward for the action was a painful grunt from the victim, followed by staggering as he just barely braced himself from a fall by grabbing the barre with both hands.

Ahiru smiled innocently at the death glare he sent in her direction and trotted away, satisfied for the time being.

He most definitely deserved that, at the very _least_.

"Settle down, class!" came a very familiar voice from the open doorway.

Ahiru craned her neck around, expression turning to one of puzzlement. The face that emerged from the shadows beyond was different from Neko-sensei, despite the voice being almost a mirror to the former one. First and foremost, the man was most definitely a _man_, and not a cat.

The duck-girl blinked. Kinkan town had returned to normal, so that must have meant the animal-people returned to being people. It made sense.

But if she squinted, the redhead could almost swear he still resembled a cat in some ways. And the scruffy head of sun-faded burgundy color was also a lot like the fur shade she remembered.

"Now return to your warm-ups and be ready to start class in five minutes, or...I WILL HAVE YOU MARRY ME!" Neko-sensei bellowed through the enclosure, his skin breaking out with beads of sweat.

Ahiru diligently started her stretching so as not to bring the instructor's attention to her this soon.

He was definitely the same marriage-obsessed Neko-sensei. Some things would _never_ change.

-------------------------------

Once class had ended, Ahiru immersed herself into the large crowd of students leaving the practice room, burying her small form amongst them. What she needed to do now, was to find Aotoa and ask him a few questions, as well as give him a look at Fakir's story.

That meant ditching the shadow-duo, whom she was sure were going to try and follow her after class.

She didn't dare cast them a glance as she let herself be guided out by the flow of the students. And as luck decided to finally shine in her favor, the duck-girl seemed to have lost them once emerging from the entrance. Ahiru used speed to her advantage and hurried across the open lawn of the scattering academy body, making a beeline straight for the library.

Surely Fakir and Fakia would never think to look for her _there_. And it was also the most common hang-out of the blue-haired musician, who was just who she needed to see.

Barely coming to a halt before running right into the door, Ahiru realized she'd forgotten something.

Namely, the manuscript that she needed to give Aotoa. Berating herself with a quick bonk to the head, she whirled around to fix her mistake.

However, what greeted her vision from just a short distance away was one that made her eyes widen to the size of saucers.

A brunette dressed casually and not in the common school uniform, was hanging from to the arm of an unmistakable white-haired Prince (who was also dressed in simple garments). The young woman stared back at her with broad crimson-colored eyes. "Ahiru?"

"Rue-chan!" the duck-girl squealed happily, running forth to wrap her friend in a hug. "I missed you!" She spared a shy smile to amber-eyed boy beside her, her cheeks taking on a reddish hue. "And you too, Mytho." The color deepened when he grinned gently in return.

For former Princess Kraehe returned the girl's embrace and pulled back, her expression still filled with unmasked surprise. "You're human again," she noted, and paled slightly as her eyes momentarily met with Mytho's, a teasing smile forming on his lips.

Ahiru chuckled sheepishly, one hand rising to curl behind her head. "Yeah, um...things _happened_."

The Prince's expression turned grave. "Things happened?" he repeated. "Something bad?"

"It's kind of hard to explain," the redhead started. Unnerved by the boy's stare, she began poking her fingers together rythymically. "Fakir sort of has...a problem."

"A problem," Mytho further echoed her words, eyebrows drawing together.

"Well, tell us what the problem is," Rue stated simply, becoming frustrated.

"_There_ you are," came a familiar and perfectly synchronized set of voices from beyond the trio.

Mytho and Rue both began to turn around, recognizing the deep tone on the spot.

"Ah, so you can tell us what the problem is, Fa-"

Ahiru couldn't see their expressions, but from the way Mytho's voice died into nothing and Rue went unusually rigid, she could certainly make an educated guess to their reaction.

Fakir and Fakia, however, were still focused on Ahiru. Both of whom looked severely displeased. "Thought that was pretty funny, didn't you?" the surly half accused. "We thought something might have happened to you, you idiot!"

Ahiru frowned, her previously happy features being marred by lines of irritation. "Don't you even start! I can walk around campus without two scowling escorts!" Fakia seemed to take mild offense from the comment, but said nothing. Fakir, however, seemed to be suppressing the urge to yell anything further.

The newcomers, flabbergasted into silence, said nothing during the exchange, and left a lingering and uneasy quiet atmosphere.

And as suddenly as the silence came, noise blew out again - in the unexpected form of Mytho's _laughter_.

Four startled pairs of eyes turned on the Prince, whose right hand rose to clutch at his chest. "T-This," he choked between outbursts, "Unbeli-Unbelievable!"

Rue, finding nothing about the situation humorous at all, solidly smacked a pale hand to the back of her love's head, sending him sprawling out onto the lawn and effectively ceasing the laughter in the process.

Fakir, Fakia, and Ahiru merely gaped at the couple's display.

"Now then," Rue brushed her hands approvingly over the fallen form of her Prince. "You two -erm, _three_," she corrected with a feminine cough, stern eyes raising to the duo and redhead. "Have a bit of _explaining_ to do."

Ahiru laughed nervously and both versions of the ex-knight crossed their arms in defiance.

Rue sent a suffering stare to the dark-haired twins, and laid pity-filled red eyes on crystal blue. The brunette Princess reached forward and patted Ahiru's head almost sympathetically."I'm sure it must have been hard enough with just _one_, much less _two _of **_him_**."

Both of the green-eyed duo's expressions clearly stated what they thought of Rue and her remark.

Ahiru's shoulders slumped. "This was that problem I was talking about, by the way."

Leave it to the duck-girl to state the obvious.

The forgotten Mytho finally rose from his grounded position, an impressive grass-stain streaking his left cheek. "Well, why don't you tell us how this," he gestured meaningfully to the "torn" knight, "managed to happen."

Ahiru sighed, gazing toward the split duo, who were still sending her the "you're-going-to-get-a-lecture-later" glare.

She suddenly wished she were a mere duck again, floating on the lake outside of Fakir's cabin with no worries to speak - or quack - of.

It was going to be a really _long_ day.

--------------------------------------------

For weeks, this chapter would just _not_ flow. And then today, once I got it flowing, it wouldn't _stop_. Not that I'm complaining. There were actually a few more elements I had planned to include in this chapter, but it was just getting too long for one segment. I apologize.

And yes, as you can tell, I write **long** stories/chapters. I can't help that. I'm not content to leave readers with just tiny bits in each part. I think, as a writer, you need to provide sufficient material to bring the reader into the story. Then again, that's just how I feel about it. You're welcome to your own opinion. I do apologize if some find it boring to read something so huge.

But I hope this continuation was worth the wait? Despite the trouble this chapter gave me, I did have a lot of fun writing it out. I'm sure you can probably tell that. I'll be getting to work on the second chapter of _Darkness of Heart_, too. So keep an eye out for that if you're interested in its continuation.

I know I piled a lot of angst on Fakia and Ahiru early in this chapter, but I really want to develop that, so bear with me if you can.

As for Mytho's personality, I took the liberty of adding to it. Afterall, you only get to see "Prince with full-heart" Mytho in the very last Act of the series. ...And Drosselmeyer wouldn't really create a character that was simply a "brave and handsome" Prince. Or so I chose to think, anyway. Hope his changes don't bother you.

Anyway, that concluded chapter two and all of my author's notes.

Please review if you can spare the time. I really love to hear your feedback. All comments and criticisms are most welcome.

And thank you for taking the time to read this.


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